


Cut

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9785180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Grief makes people do crazy and ridiculous things. Jon was just glad he could be there to help Damian through his.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know why Super Sons today made me have a bunch of feels about baldy Bat!Damian, but it did. Based loosely on what I remember from the Batman!Damian comics, where he’s bald, Batman, and basically everyone he’s ever loved is dead and he like makes a deal with the devil or something. Both Damian and Jon are in their 30s and are Bats and Supes respectfully, and basically kind of alone. (if we’re going comics baldy damian we’ll go with the world is also pretty shitty too) We’ll say the baldness/haircutting is just kind of an impulsive reaction to being emotional, and like. He can’t stand being told of his similarities to the greatest men in his life, because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. I think that comes across in the story, but if not. There’s the layman’s.

Jon watched the man sitting on the stool in front of the mirror. He was hunched, fingers twisted in his hair. Would probably try to rip it out soon, if Jon didn’t hurry.

“…You sure?” He asked as he walked in the room. In his periphery Jon saw Damian nod, but was too focused on the bruises and scars littering the other’s bare back.

“If you don’t wish to do it, I’ll do it myself.” Damian returned. He wasn’t harsh, but it was just as bad – because his voice was cold. Cold and emotionless, and it hurt Jon’s heart to hear him like that. Because it meant he was upset. Because it meant he was exhausted.

Because it meant he shut down, and sometimes Jon couldn’t _reach_ him then.

“Oh no you won’t.” Jon hummed, waving he clippers in his hand. “Last time you ‘did it yourself’ you sliced half your head open. Remember how annoying it was, explaining that to both the press _and_ the League?”

“Hm.” Damian sighed. When Jon was close enough, he sat up, staring into his own tired, bagged eyes in the mirror. Jon stood behind him, and gently carded his fingers through his shaggy hair.

“…And you’re sure.” Jon repeated. “Not even a buzzcut? Or an undercut?”

“Father had a buzz for a while. Todd had an under.” Damian shook his head. “Just cut it all.”

“…If you waited, you could grow it out to look like Tim’s.” Jon tried. “Or even Stephanie. She wore it long.”

“So did Gray…” But Damian couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even say his _name_ , that’s how upset he was. He ducked his head back down, hiding his face in his hands. Jon carefully wrapped his arms around Damian’s shoulders, leaned against his back and kissed his neck. “…He had a mullet once upon a time.”

“Dad always showed me pictures.” Jon murmured carefully. “…He’d be proud of you, Damian. You know that.”

“…Please just cut it off.” Damian’s voice was muffled. “Every strand. Take some skin if you have to. Just get rid of it.”

Jon sighed, pressed another kiss to Damian’s ear, then stood to his full height, and turned the clippers on. “Sit up, handsome.”

Damian did as he was told, but kept his eyes lowered. His shoulders slumped. Jon didn’t comment on it – learned a long time ago not to. Not to push, Damian would say something when he was ready.

The only sound in the room was the buzz of the razor, and underneath it Jon’s light hums. Damian only moved when he was prompted by Jon’s fingers, turning his head this way and that.

“Is this close enough?” Jon asked, and it was the only time Damian looked up. When his head was tilted to the left, and most of his hair gone.

“Yes.” Damian whispered. “Thank you.”

Jon smiled at him in the mirror, and Damian’s gaze immediately dropped. Jon didn’t mind. He was used to it.

It wasn’t long after that he finished. He shut the clippers off and sat them on a nearby dresser, then grabbed the towel he’d already laid out, coming around Damian’s side. Damian’s knees opened, and he slotted himself between them as he gently brushed the cut hair away from his shoulders. When his bare skin was mostly clear, Jon raised the towel to his head, rubbing carefully at his scalp, then bringing it back around to hold Damian’s cheeks and lift his face.

“All done.” Jon smiled.

Damian smiled back but, like everything about him right now, it was sad. “…Guess I’m not so handsome now, eh?”

“Nonsense.” Jon promised, leaning down to kiss Damian’s forehead. “I think you’re handsome no matter what you do with your hair.”

Damian tried to keep the smile, but it was a losing battle. “Now I won’t sweat as much in the cowl.” He tried, but the smile was fading fast. Before it could disappear completely, though, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Jon’s waist, hiding his face in his shirt.

Jon just waited, keeping one hand on the back of Damian’s neck, using the other to stroke his head softly.

“…Someone said I looked like him today. They actually called me _Richard_ twice before they realized their mistake.” Damian whispered. And here it was. “Then they joked that I’m starting to look more like him than my own father as I get older.”

_Ah._

“…I miss him.” Damian breathed, squeezing Jon’s hips as tight as he dared. He pressed his face further into Jon’s torso, and Jon could feel him starting to shake. “I miss him and Father so much. I miss them _all so much_.”

“I know.” Jon finally returned. “I know you do, Damian.”

“Maybe I should try again.” Damian thought out loud. “Maybe I should try to make a deal again, with that spirit. He said he could bring them back. And I’ll give _anything_ to-”

“Shhhh,” Jon cut off gently, curling himself over Damian’s head. “You know they wouldn’t want that.”

“I know.” Damian cried. “…I know.”

Jon uncurled, and smiled as he took Damian’s face into his hands again. Damian only hesitated, tried to keep his gaze down and his face hidden, once. For a second. Jon didn’t give up, just like he never did. And when Damian finally met his gaze, his grin widened.“…You know he’d be proud of you, Damian. Dick, Jason, Tim, your father – all of them. They were so proud of you and the man you became. Just like I am every day.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Damian wheezed. “I don’t deserve any of-”

“Shush. You know how I feel about that kind of talk. Don’t make me kiss it out of you.” Jon laughed, pulling back. Sliding his hands down Damian’s arms until he’d untangled from them and had Damian’s fingers in his. “Now come on. That newly-bald head of yours is going to get cold quick. We’ve gotta get you to the heated mattress pad and fluffy pillows, stat.”

Damian didn’t fight – just like _he_ never did. Let Jon lead him over to the bed, get him down to his boxers and under the blankets. Jon got himself to a similar state – boxers and an undershirt – before joining Damian in the warmth of their bed, wrapping his arms around Damian’s shoulders, and letting the elder duck his face against his neck.

Jon closed his eyes. A moment of quiet.

“…Beloved?” Damian whispered.

Jon always loved that nickname. Smiled. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean it. When I said I’d give anything for Grayson back.” Damian murmured. Jon opened his eyes as he felt Damian shift to look up at him. He met the desperate stare. “I’d never give up you.”

“I know.” Jon smiled again. “Now go to sleep.”

Damian seemed to hesitate, before cuddling closer. Flopping a possessive arm around Jon’s hips. And Jon listened for a minute, then two, as Damian’s breathing evened out.

And without meaning to, he thought of his own family. His mother, who had died years ago, not long after Dick, but before Bruce. His father, who had distanced himself and disappeared in his grief, leaving Jon all alone.

Well. All alone except for-

“Damian?” Jon asked. Damian didn’t answer. But that was alright. Jon didn’t really want him to. He flashed a grin to the empty room, before closing his eyes once more, and leaning his cheek against the cool flesh of Damian’s head.

_I’d never give you up either._


End file.
